In These Black Days
by by the throat
Summary: Vignettes from the end of the world.


_save yourself the disappointment and find another story to read._

* * *

><p>If God doesn't like ugly, he doesn't like anybody.<p>

Renan Nogueira doesn't remember much about days before the Quakes. As far as he's concerned, his life - his new life - started on a rainy Tuesday in Mauville when the Quakes began.

It had been raining for days seemingly all across the region. As a tropical, island-based landform, this in itself was not new to Hoenn. People went about their lives and worked at their dead-end jobs, but nothing changed. Young adolescents and teenagers embarked on quests to become Pokèmon masters, got lost or beaten soundly in a battle and quietly retired their dreams. People lived in harmony with the world, with nature, with the creatures populating the earth.

And no one noticed the tides slowly, slowly but surely evaporating the shorelines. No one noticed how half of Hoenn was perpetually drenched in torrential downpour while the other half was in a permanent draught.

Imagine a world-shattering earthquake, and no one actually notices it for sixth months. Assume a corrupt power is spreading and pervading itself across the land right in front of your very eyes, and people do nothing.

Think of the cities, the great empires of the world having purged their last breaths, and people ignore it.

This is what a culture of complacency will do to a civilization.

The Quakes had been building up for months. People reported hiking accidents. Mt. Chimney had become unstable. Packs of Absol were freely roaming forests.

Imagine waking up and on one side of you, you're almost up to your neck in saltwater. Flooding suddenly drowning buildings whole. Pacifidlog Town was literally swallowed whole in a matter of minutes. Anticyclones patrol the coasts and tsunamis crash against poorly constructed levies. Hundreds of humans and their Pokèmon displaced or worse. There hadn't been any word from the Pokemon League. There wouldn't be. Victory Road caved in.

* * *

><p><em>Deeper the wound<em>, Nogueira thinks.

Tattered black blazer over a white shirt and khaki pants, Renan was actually attending a party when the quakes hit his location for the decisive strike. The building collapsed.

Instinctively, he reaches for the belt around his waist. All three Pokèballs intact. Bag still on his back.

He climbs on top of a plateau where the Weather Institute used to be. To none of his immediate surprise, it was raining.

He opens the usual capsules. A Poochyena and Zigzagoon sit at his feet, one whimpering and the other watching his world slowly coming undone. A Swellow perches on Renan's shoulder, constantly shaking the water drenching its feathers.

"We got this far, guys." Nogueira says in encouragement.

"That's an achievement in itself, kid."

Renan turns around, and his heart sinks.

"I don't want any trouble," he pleads.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of." This man wearing all blue and white. Striped shirt, bandana with an A insignia made out of bones. Black hair slicked back, trimmed beard, piercings, a tattoo on his neck and sleeves on his arms. "You got this far. That's something to be proud of in itself." By his legs, there's a snarling Mightyena and a Manectric sporting a 2000 yard stare.

"Please, sir, I'm... We're really sorry, it won't happen in the future. I'll be gone by tomorrow."

The man, he laughs. "Tomorrow ain't here. It's gone dead on me anyway."

The Mightyena and Manectric seemingly latch their teeth into the necks of Nogueira's Pokèmon in unison. An ungodly scream fills the air, and it's drowning out Renan's cries for mercy, mercy, his friends haven't done anything, please, please stop. The man raises something metallic, and Renan Nogueira's new life ended sometime after that rainy Tuesday in Mauville.

This is surely the way the world works.

* * *

><p>I wake up with a headache and an empty stomach.<p>

This is nothing new, the empty stomach I mean. I've never really been the recipient of migraines in recent times. I've been sore all over, and who wouldn't be, having to traverse this terrain? But the headache is new. Not much that has been new has been beneficial.

"Okay," I instinctively say. My dad, he hates profanity, and my mother always threatened to wash my mouth out with soap if I used any bad language, so I substitute okay for my curses.

Lose a battle?_ Okay_.

Girl problems? _Okay_.

Ran out of money?_ Okay_.

Earth coming apart at the seams?

_Okay, okay, okay._

My party's still asleep, curled up across the cots that the Fallarbor]Pokèmon Center laid out in the basement. No one aside from the locals are in Fallarbor, and the locals, they're holed up in their own homes. Save for a few whimpering displaced Pokèmon Contest participants, the room's empty.

All this world ending stuff started with it getting kinda rainy and now half of Hoenn had excess flooding while the other had temperatures easily over 100•F. People on the computers say that it's an isolated incident, that Johto and Kanto are fine, and Sinnoh always has bad weather, and Unova, nothing ever happens there. Nothing ever happens in Hoenn, used to be the saying.

It's been tweaked to, nothing good ever happens in Hoenn.

My Pokèmon begin to stir. I'vw never liked the idea of saying "mine", because I'm probably just as much theirs, useless without the other. They're my friends that happen to be immensely powerful compared to humans. This doesn't mean anything when buildings are collapsing and volcanos erupt.

We're in this together.

We meaning Cèrvenka, the Blaziken, who I've raised from a Torchic to a firebird probably more intelligent and mature than I am. The Trapinch, Frankie. It's hard to not pity the determined creature, even though he can barely lift his head off the ground. Florian, a Poochyena that I had just caught recently; seemingly he spends his time between being terrified of everything and curious to a fault. An Aron, creatively named Aron. He deserves better for being so faithful. Edu, a Tailow that seems to have adopted Florian's timidness.

And an Absol, Ranieri. The most recent addition to the group. Caught her roaming the dry, cracked plains. She still doesn't seem to be all that pleased with being captive. This whole "partner" concept doesn't sit well with her.

These guys, I'm trusting with my life.

My PokeNav rings, and I'm wondering who calls this early in the morning, apocalypse or no-apocalypse.

"Hello?" I ask. I'm still trying to shake out of the grip from sleep, eyes blinking. My companions are beginning to stir, judging by Florian's frenzied howling.

"Brendan?" The voice calls out. I'm ready to end the call right then and there.

"Yes, May?"

"Where in the world are you? Your parents are worried."

If I ever get a tumor, I'm naming it May Haruka.

"I'm in Fallarbor, in the Pokèmon center. I'm completely safe." This is partly true. Cèrvenka, sitting cross-legged, looks at me as if to ask if everything's alright, and I nod. "Where are you?"

Florian and Edu are wailing, much to Ranieri's immediate displeasure. She barks and bares her teeth, which is something she hasn't been afraid to do me. The Poochyena and the Tailow shrink into each other's sides, shaking. Frankie, he just spins in circles.

I have five badges and even if Hoenn wasn't going to the dogs, I doubt I'd be getting my sixth.

Like I said, I'm trusting these creatures with my wellbeing.

"Ruby, don't you know you're never really safe with The Quakes?" She tauntingly uses my nickname, and I wince and subconsciously pull down my hat even further. "It's not safe, it never is. I'm in Fortree City, and I'm still counting my blessings."

"So you called me early in the morning to tell me what I already know?"

"Maybe." She laughs. "You've heard about those ferries that'll take you out of Hoenn, right?"

"Yeah."

Kanto, long known for being an exceptionally neutral region with a policy of isolationism when it came to world affairs, was offering aid to people displaced by the disasters occurring across Hoenn. Any refugee was free to take one of the many boats to Vermilion. Kanto's eternal little-brother-slash-thorn-in-side, Johto, responded by opening its ports to anyone needing shelter, free of charge- but geographically, Kanto is closer if you leave from the east.

"My dad and your parents are trying to leave the East Coast, you know that? Take the ferry to Kanto and wait it out."

"What about your mom?" I ask.

"She has relatives in the Orange Islands, she's already gone to arrange a place for my family. Your dad is a gym leader, so you guys shouldn't have much of a problem finding a place, either."

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm completely landlocked."

"Don't you have HMs?"

Aron appears to be enamored with headbutting the wall.

"HMs won't mean anything; I'm closer to the west coast, and Team Magma's set up there."

I've had a couple run ins with Team Magma grunts before, they seemed to be completely indoctrinated in what they believed. Surely they were dancing in the ruined streets over the geographic changes. They were depressingly inept when I last saw them, but the word going around was that they were armed to the teeth and fighting no holds barred.

That sort if thing, there are no rules or anything and most are as likely to attack the trainer as much as the Pokèmon. I don't need that sort of trouble right now.

"Well, can you at least get on a ferry ride out in Lilycove? I'm only relaying a message from your folks, Brendan. They're worried for you."

"I'll see what I can do."

"I'm serious, Ruby."

"I know you are. You're my favorite seriously terrible neighbor."

"I'm like, your only neighbor."

"Yeah, well, see you. Bye."

"Stay safe!"

"I said bye."

_Click!_

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><p>I sigh hard, leaning against the wall. This wasn't how it was supposed to work. Cèrvenka places a talon on my shoulder, but I'm sick of this. Any map illustrating Hoenn is probably outdated now.<p>

My head is killing me.

Babies are crying and people desperately work the phones trying to reach loved ones and young trainers outside are stranded, and I have a headache.

So it goes.

I like my parents, but I'm not exactly falling over myself to reunite with my father, end of the world or not. Either way you look at it, I am trapped in the belly of this horrible machine. Every option leads to misery.

If I stay, I'm dead.

If I go, I'm probably dead.

If I make it, well, I'm still dead, just longer down the line.

What can you do? What can you do, I mean.

Outside there are mothers clutching babies. The sewers are flooded with blood and tears.

We are all in the belly of the beast, and the beast is in its death throes.

"I need to do something about this headache," I grumble.

The Blaziken- my Blaziken- looks at me expectedly. My team has otherwise stopped causing mayhem in the basement, all staring at me- waiting for my decision.

I don't want to go out there, but I'm not exactly able to pick and choose.

"And get out of here, I guess."


End file.
